Season of Gifts
by FireflySummer
Summary: The first holiday season has arrived after the events of Syrgja. To his surprise, Loki finds himself healing from the scars on his body and soul, and decides to use the holiday as a chance to give something back. Fanfiction for a LC's Fanfiction, Syrgja. Implied Blackfrost.


**LC mentioned off-hand something about Avengers Christmas stories, so I decided that was as good as a prompt. Also, this is in the AU of her multi-chapter fic, Syrgja, and takes place the first holiday season after the story's finale. Also, I feel like I should get extra credit for a story more fluff than angst, for once.**

* * *

Loki stood at the center of the small Midgardian town, watching the snow pile so heavily that even sound tucked itself away in the nooks and crannies. Every once and a while, a car would pass by, its yellow lights illuminating the path before it before vanishing once more, a spectre from a world left behind.

He knew why he'd come. It was a holiday season, at least for the residents of Stark Tower. At first he'd simply let it gloss through his mind, until someone-Steve, probably-had mentioned the tradition of giving gifts. The concept of gift-giving was not foreign to him; it was customary for noble visitors to bring objects to present before a king, and over the course of his life he had seen a great number of flashy gifts. At first he'd thought this holiday no different, but the way that Steve had described it had made it seem...different. That these gifts, although potentially as hollow as the ones from the gilded courts, could also mean something deeper. Something _more_.

As Steve had described it, Natasha had gotten that _look_ in her eyes. The one that meant that she was remembering something buried, something painful. And for a brief moment he felt his mind being drawn back to that dark place he had sought to escape.

But to his surprise, his thoughts instead had drifted to his earlier memories of Stark Tower, and was surprised to find that much of the pain that had run like poison...lacking. In its place, he had found only a feeling of warmth, the few bright memories for once outshining the oceans of darkness, like guiding stars.

_Gifts_. And suddenly, suddenly Loki had been overwhelmed with the desire for once to be the one giving.

There was fairly little that he could do at this short notice. Nothing ground-breaking of life-altering. Nothing in comparison to the gifts that had been given him. But that was all right, he told himself. Because this wasn't about repaying a debt. There was no obligation, he was not being forced. (And yet, for some reason, that made him want to give _more_.)

He had managed to gather the gifts in time...all but one, that was. For all his supposed brilliance, he could not think of a single gift that might begin to suit her. It wasn't until the wee hours of Christmas morning that a thought finally struck him. He had quietly gotten out of bed, preparing himself against a cold he knew was coming, and teleported himself away.

And now...well, he knew why he was here, what he was looking for, but not really where to get it. It had been nearly three in the morning in New York, but here it was later by some hours. Most shops were closed at this hour, but there were still a number-small enough that they could not afford to sleep in and avoid a Christmas demand-whose lights glowed at him.

He wandered through the darkness, letting the snow settle on him in a kind of...peace. That was no really something that he felt in the presence of ice and snow. Perhaps it was the occasion. Perhaps it was simply that this land was Natasha's, some time long ago.

Whatever the reason, he drank in the peaceful feeling, relishing every moment that the shadows fled his mind.

"What are you doing?" The voice came to him, startling him out of his thoughts. His immediate thought was to run, on the off chance that he had accidentally violated some rule. But then the voice continued. "It's Christmas morn, have you no better place to be than a blizzard?"

Loki turned and looked through the snowing flakes, to where a door stood open, revealing a man in decidedly...religious attire. He had a pleasant enough look about him, and Loki hesitated a moment before finding his voice again.

"Forgive me for disturbing your peace," he replied, words returning to him in still-tarnished silver. "I meant no ill. I was merely...searching."

"For what?"

"A gift. For a friend."

"Well come in for a moment. There are many gifts in this place, but at the very least I can offer a stranger a warm drink and some directions." The door swung wide, and Loki, after a moment's hesitation, took it and followed the man through.

Beyond was a wide, open space, illuminated by candles despite the centuries-old invention of electricity. There were pews and a stand at the front, marking it clearly as a place of worship. It was surprisingly warm, and Loki allowed it to soak into his coat and melt away the flakes of snow.

The man returned shortly, offering Loki a drink of something he could not quite name. He took it graciously, wondering what the proper address was for a man of his station. He was not well versed in Midgardian religion, despite Steve's occasional attempts to explain it, and he could not have given the name of this one if he'd been hard-pressed. Despite this, though, it was a good feeling here. A peaceful one that he enjoyed in silence.

"I do not recognize your face," the other man said at length, scrutinizing Loki's carefully chosen clothing, "Your Russian is flawless, so you are not a foreigner?"

Loki shrugged. "I'm a wanderer. Or have been for many years." He turned his attention to the great stained glass that stood at the back of the chapel. It was a magnificent treasure in this sleepy little place, beautiful despite the fact that the sun had not yet risen to fill its depictions with light.

"You like the glass?" asked the man with a fond smile.

"Yes," Loki said, "I'm not very knowledgeable on religions though, I fear."

"There is not much to know," the man replied, with a chuckle, "In truth, it is all very simple. We humans simply have a way of...complicating things." Loki traced the figures with his eyes, lingering a moment on the depiction of a cross. This story, at least, he knew.

"It's a story of hope. Hope for a better future. Hope for the chance to change," the man said, as though hearing a question spoken aloud. "We are foolish creatures, humans. Foolish and broken. And yet, for all our brokenness, humanity is...beautiful. And when we put together our broken pieces, we come together to make a beautiful stained glass window."

The man chuckled suddenly, snapping them out of the train of thoughts. "But you must be getting on your way. You came in search of something, and I promised you answers, no?"

"Yes," Loki said, "I'm looking for a bakery. One open at this hour."

"A simple request," the man said, "There is one only a few blocks from here." He relayed the instructions with the practice of a man who had lived his life building roots in one place, and for the simple instructions Loki was thankful. And yet, despite his eagerness to return to the Tower before the awakening of his friends, he felt...hesitant to leave behind the warm, safe place that he had found tucked away.

"You may come back at any time," said the man, waving him on, "If you seek peace of healing."

"Perhaps," Loki replied, wondering briefly what Natasha would think if he brought her here. If she would feel the same peace he had, or if he would laugh at his sudden growth of sentiment. "Thank you. It has been a long time for me. A painful time. I didn't believe in second chances...for a long time, I didn't even have _hope_. I wouldn't have understood...not even understood why other people..." He trailed off, suddenly tangled in his own words.

"Do you understand now?" came the kind reply.

For a moment, Loki's eyes wandered back through the past months. Of friends and family. Of love and healing. Of hope and a second chance that he knew he did not deserve. It was not a question of religion, but one of himself. And suddenly, Loki felt a smile curl at the corner of his mouth.

"I think I'm beginning to."

"Then your time of tears has come to an end. Farewell wanderer."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Christmas at Stark Tower was a surprisingly simple event (at the insistence of one Pepper Potts). Natasha was the first one awake, half expecting to find Loki up and prowling. Instead, she was greeted only with a Christmas tree that glittered gently in the darkness.

She enjoyed the sight for a while before flicking on the lights so that she wouldn't trip over any presents left haphazardly about. But before she had a chance to sneak a peak at her gifts (she hated surprises after all), she was drawn away by a familiar scent wafting in from the kitchen. Curiously she followed her nose until she arrived at the place.

When she saw what awaited her, she couldn't help but smile. She didn't even need to check the note to make sure that the gift was intended for her. At peace, and knowing that Loki was as well, she turned around and wandered back to her bedroom to rest once more for the night.

But not before hiding the Syrniki that Loki had left her from the looming danger of the other Avengers.


End file.
